


Chocolate

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth [3]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cell Phones, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Mask, despite Kristiane’s pining for Tom, Terry convinces her to accept a date with his cast mate that’s shown some interest in her. But Tom re-enters the picture…</p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the few one shots that bridge the gap between The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth and its sequel, Down With Love (not posted yet).

**Chocolate**

“Shit, woman, just try it!”

I cackled uproariously at Terry’s sudden outburst with a slap on the small wooden table to emphasize his point. One laugh rolled into a giggle at his outraged and haughty expression. Placing my coffee cup back in the center beside my promised chocolate donut, I shook my head as the happy sound faded away. “This isn’t like tasting a new flavor of frozen yogurt at Off the Wall,” I stated around a silly grin.

“If you do it right, you could be licked-“

“TERRENCE BECK!” I cried out while howling with another bout of laughter, and crossing my legs at the innuendo. God love my best friend, he was not for subtlety and he kept my spirits up with lewd allusions.

“Just a piece of advice, jellybean,” he said with a wink.

Coming down from my fit of giggles, I reminded, “It’s a date, babe. I’m not good with those, you know that.” A precise statement that encompassed so much pain and yet I survived, laughing with my friend at the Donut Plant in Union Square. I was on the other side of it, and I could consider the prospect without panicking or turning inward.

“Are you waiting for him, turtledove? Are you waiting for Tom? He told you not to.”

Avoiding his gaze, I zeroed in on the steam rising over the rim of the wide width of the cup, considering his question seriously, weighing up how much of my reluctance was hung up on the man that left me behind. I didn’t blame Tom in the slightest. He was chasing his dream in Los Angeles as I was in New York City. Our careers were important and set in motion before we met each other. Although we fell in love, we couldn’t be together. Noble Tom set me free to date and possibly find another love, insisting that I shouldn’t wait for him until he could come back for me.

Our six month separation became ten with one phone call. Tom and I spoke only that once since he left, only to tell me that his career path was leading him back to England, and he couldn’t come back for me or the Hiddleston family watch that he gave me. There was no true end in sight for our separation.

“Button?”

Blinking repeatedly, I leveled my eyes on Terry’s concerned puppy dog expression. I cleared my throat and huffed a small laugh to cove my pause, reveling in the memory of Tom and I in our one week together. “I’m trying, Terr. I’m trying to not wait for him. But my heart… my heart isn’t in dating. Tom took it with him when he left,” I said honestly, picking at the chocolate donut, the very thing Terry was sugaring me up with.

“Have you talked to him?”

“Not since the Spielberg call, seven weeks, three days and sixteen hours ago.”

Terry said, sarcastically, “Excellent! I was worried you were counting.”

With a rueful shrug, I confessed, “I can’t help that, babe. All he left me with was time and a way to measure it.” My gaze fell again to my treat.

Terry scooted his chair around to the table to maul me in a huge bear hug, taking some of my hurt on him… if only he could. My vision blurred when my eyes flooded with tears. I swiped at one errant tear that rolled down my cheek. Swallowing the emotions, I scoffed, “That damn man!”

Self-deprecatingly, Terry replied, “I feel your pain… all too well.”

“How dysfunctional of us to fall for the same man,” I joked, fighting the sadness that came from missing Tom.

“We have excellent taste. So why not have dinner with cast mate Matt? I like him. Just for a change. You should have a little fun.”

“Terr, he’s from Ohio, a horse farm. Is he not a little scared that I’ll pull a praying mantis and bite his head off?”

“We’re a few months before mating season, and for reason the shy boy has got a crush on the Broadway starlet!”

I winced at the thought, “Is it not cruel for me to lead him on, you know, while being in love with someone else?”

“One date, kitten. That’s allowed. Be honest with the equestrian.” He pointed to the donut, “I bought you chocolate to convince you.”

Uncertainly I finally agreed to a date with Mr. Cincinnati, Ohio via text that I would have dinner with him the next night.

Nine hours later, my dresser handed me my cellphone as I stepped into my dressing room for intermission. I dropped it on the tabletop in front of the mirror as I sat before it. “Thanks, Meliss. I’ll check it after the performance.”

Melissa, my red haired friend with the good manners and polite disposition, met my eyes in the mirror, picked up my phone, and handed it to me again. “You have time for this.”

As she set about touching up my makeup and wig for Act Two, I swiped the unlock on my screen. I had a text message: ‘Do you think I resemble F. Scott Fitzgerald? – Tom’

Tom! Tom thought of me. Tom contacted me. My heart fluttered at seeing his name on my phone and his miniature picture. Melissa giggled behind me as I couldn’t type fast enough with a response. “I told you that you had time. I saw his picture flash on the screen when the message came in.”

I responded: ‘Never thought about it, but at a push, I’d say Leslie Howard. – K’

‘I don’t think Woody Allen is looking to cast Leslie Howard in his film about writers. – Tom’

‘Are you trying to tell me that your resume will include Branaugh AND Woody Allen AND Spielberg? – K’

‘In a very indirect way, yes. I was hired to play Fitzgerald because I was told that I’m a spitting image of him. But I’m under strict orders not to tell anyone. – Tom’

‘Why are you telling me, you overgrown child? I don’t need the script police chasing my ass around town. – K’

‘As distracting as your ass is… Kristie. Woody Allen. Consider that for a minute. – Tom’

I furrowed my brow, scowling at the message. I was in no mood for riddles or guessing games while on my intermission. Infuriating man!

Suddenly, I gasped loudly. Forgotten Melissa mistakenly apologized for pulling my hair which she hadn’t. I complete ignored her flitting around with my character look. As my fingers flew to text him back, I realized that I had a phone in my hand. I left the message half typed and hit the call button instead.

“Kristiane,” Tom sighed on the other end.

“Woody Allen?”

“Woody Allen.”

“Woody Allen?” my voice squeaking with my excitement.

Chuckling, he confirmed once more with an obvious smile, “Woody Allen.”

“Oh, Tom, he loves New York and does a movie here almost every year.”

“That’s why I’m telling you, Kristie.”

“When?”

Apologetically, Tom said, “I don’t have any details yet, other than Fitzgerald. He spent a lot of his time in New York City in the twenties, so I’m going on what I know. Branaugh rearranged the schedule so I leave Thor a bit early to do three or four weeks with Allen. Before going back to England to start War Horse…”

“Tom,” I breathed out. “This is an extraordinary year for you. That’s amazing!”

“Thank you. I’ll find out for sure in a week or two where and when I’m needed for the shoot. But Kristie… I miss you so much. I need to see you.” His tone turned airily wistful, “Hearing your voice…” That’s exactly how I felt about him. “I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you.”

Overcome with emotion, I whispered, “I miss you too.” Melissa tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the wall clock urgently. “Oh, God, Tom! I have to go, intermission’s almost over.”

“I’ll call you later, my beautiful Wilde one. I love you.”

I gripped the mobile in the heel of my hand, near speechless with the lump in my throat. This morning I was bemoaning that I hadn’t talked to him for weeks, and I wasn’t going to hear from him for months. He was on my phone confessing his heart to me, and admitting that he was feeling everything I’d been for months since he left. “I love you too,” I barely said over the emotion.

Tom still loved me and that was better than chocolate.


End file.
